


After the Party

by INMH



Series: trope-bingo fanfiction fills 2020 [1]
Category: Beyond: Two Souls
Genre: Bullying, Coda, Consequences, Drama, Fire, Gen, Past Violence, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Kirsten lies on a hotel bed and contemplates the events of the day.
Series: trope-bingo fanfiction fills 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848508
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	After the Party

Her mom’s been on the phone for over an hour.  
  
Kirsten stays curled up on the bed with her back to the hotel bathroom’s door, hearing her mother’s voice but not able to work out the words. Her dad’s in Montreal and she assumes her mom’s talking to him- but she might also be talking with her bosses, or Dr. Dawkins, who’s supposed to be that _freak’s_ handler.  
  
The house is still standing, but most of the inside is gutted, including Kirsten’s room. The fire has damaged the structure of the house, and the firemen had warned them that floors and ceilings could collapse with only a little stress. They couldn’t go back inside to get anything, not even clothes or toiletries or any other necessities. Kirsten’s brand new phone had fallen out of her pocket when that witch started her shit, and one of the firemen had shown her its twisted remains before she and her mom had left.  
  
Right now, Kirsten has nothing: Her clothes, her phone, her birthday presents, her _room_ , are all gone.  
  
And it’s all because of _Jodie_.  
  
“Did you lock her in the _hallway closet?_ ”  
  
Kirsten starts, sits up and whips her head towards the bathroom.  
  
Her mother has stepped out, phone in hand, looking at Kirsten with an expression that would bring anyone else to tears; Kirsten herself feels a little queasy seeing it directed at her. “What?”  
  
“Did you,” her mother began slowly, eyes narrowed, “and your _friends,_ lock Jodie in the front hallway closet during your party?”  
  
Kirsten blinks, unsure of how to respond. Normally she would just lie, but she’s been shaken and thrown off balance by the events of the day and she can’t find a way to reorient herself. “I- I- I don’t-”  
  
“Jesus Christ, Kirsten!”  
  
“She was acting like a _freak!_ ” Kirsten burst out, realizing that deception was pointless and hoping that the truth might sway her mother to pity and mercy. “She was so freaking weird, I didn’t even know her, and you just went ahead and invited her to _my party_ without even asking me-!”  
  
“Are you _fucking_ serious, Kirsten!?”  
  
“Holy shit mom, she attacked me! She attacked my friends! She set our _house_ on fire! Why are you even defending her?!” Kirsten screams.  
  
“There is no excuse for what Jodie did,” Kirsten’s mother seethes. “And believe me, I have had a _long_ conversation with Dr. Dawkins about her needing to control her temper and express her anger in ways that don’t involve assault or arson. But there is absolutely no excuse for what _you_ did, either. Do you realize that if you did this to _any_ other girl that you could be reported to the police for assault, or false imprisonment? My God, they’re _already_ asking about the alcohol in the living room, Kirsten! Do you understand how serious this is? Do you understand that you are a _minor_ and that we could _both_ face criminal prosecution for this, you for drinking underage and me for neglecting to properly supervise you? _Do you get it, Kirsten?_ ”  
  
Her mother’s voice had risen progressively as she’d spoken; by the end, she is roaring. Kirsten shrinks back, fingers knotted in the sheets. She does know this, all of it, on an intellectual level: She’s seen the shitty Lifetime movies where kids die or get hurt or arrested for drinking underage, she’s sat through the dumbass assemblies at school where adults more than twice her age try to pretend that they remember what it’s like to be a teenager and warn against the evils of ‘bullying’ and ‘peer pressure’.  
  
It’s that same cheesy quality, that unrealistic aspect of the speeches and the films and the school skits, that had made Kirsten not take them seriously. _They’re just trying to scare us,_ she’d thought, rolling her eyes and exchanging looks with her friends.  
  
But now that she’s in the thick of it, now that her mother looks ready to _murder_ her over it, Kirsten is starting to see the reality of the situation.  
  
“We didn’t even drink that much,” she says, aware that the defense sounds awkward and pathetic.  
  
Her mother throws her hands up. “ _It doesn’t matter how much or little you drank!_ ” She yells. “It matters that you are _minors_ in possession of alcohol! It matters that I am your mother, and that my _minor_ daughter and her _minor_ friends were drinking alcohol _on my property_ right before they assaulted a girl and _set the goddamn house on fire!_ ”  
  
“But we didn’t-!”  
  
Kirsten stops.  
  
Of course: The cops and firefighters will conclude that Kirsten and her friends knocked a candle over in an act of drunken dumbassery, because the alternative explanation- that some witch-girl with psychic powers got pissed off and used her abilities to set a curtain on fire- will make Kirsten sound like a liar at best and a headcase at worst. They’ll go with the most likely explanation, which is also the one that will make Kirsten and her friends look the worst.  
  
Kirsten’s mother eyes her coldly. “Get it now?” She asks flatly.  
  
Kirsten gives a quick bob of her head. Yeah, she gets it now- she really, _really_ gets it now.  
  
“Your father is on his way home. And from this point on, you are grounded: You go to school, you come home, you go to school, you come home. You are not to speak to your friends on the phone, you are not to use your car, you are not to go _anywhere_ without me or your father present.”  
  
Kirsten nods.  
  
“I suggest you use this time to reconsider how you behave towards other people, Kirsten- and the company you keep, since I can hardly blame what you did to Jodie just on _you._ I have more calls to make- I expect you to sit here silently until I am done. Understand?”  
  
“Yes, mom,” Kirsten whispers.  
  
“Good.” Her mother stomps back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.  
  
Kirsten curls back up on the bed, shutting her eyes. Shame and humiliation burn in her stomach, as well as rage.  
_  
Fuck you, Jodie Holmes._  
**_  
Fuck. You._**  
  
-End


End file.
